Page 21 of Forgotten Monsters
The Fae King waltzes into the tent with no drums or trumpets, and the two red flaps seal themselves behind him. I’ve seen him before, though not in the way I was expecting.
Air blows out of my lungs, and my eyes widen.
“By the Dark Gods and their wicked brooms,” I curse despite the gag, but the sounds that come out are unintelligible.
He’sthe King of Faerie. What the fuck happened while I was gone?
Does this make mequeen?
Holy shit!
Raw power rushes off Cole in spicy, drugging waves. His dark ringlets have been cut short, and the look gives him a severe edge. The shape of his shoulders is the same—yet different.
Metal scrapes against wood in a loudscreechas I tug on the chains. All the hairs at the back of my neck stand erect, and a molten heat radiates through my body.
My bound powers melt me from the inside out.
A network of blueish, silvery scars gleams on his neck. The patterns are mesmerizing, but they tug and twist at my heart.
Unseelie claws leave a permanent mark. Always.
Each one of them highlights a wound he didn’t have the last time I saw him. Every violent line is a crack that separates us, like wrinkles marking the passage of time.
Oh no, no, no…the cyclone, or tempest as Mal called it…Allie and I thought we’d missed the summer, but we clearly missedmore.
Cole squints at me as though I’m a puzzle that needs solving. Under his scrutiny, I’m nothing but a goblin’s flea that he longs to crush under his foot, and while I remember our last fight vividly, I do not think I deserve this much ire.
My surprise and elation to be reunited with Cole—the Fae King!—condenses into an unbearable pressure in my belly.
What happened to him? How long was I gone?
The sprite rubs the sharp angle of his nose. “I could deal with it myself, Sire.”
“Leave me, Jameson,” Cole says, the growl so dark and deep, I hardly recognize his voice.
“As you wish.” Jameson flaps his wings and whistles out with a sullen pout, taking my damn necklace in his grubby paws.
Cole snaps off his armor plate, the black Faerie clothes underneath embroidered with copper, brass, and silver accents, and grabs a dagger from the desk.
My eyes bulge, but all I can do is wiggle in my restraints. My stiff muscles scream from the effort.
He rips the belt off my body, working quietly to undress me. At first, I assume it’s sexual, but the hard clench of his jaw and the bunch of his muscles quicken my breath. He pats down my waist and underarms, and I realize he’s merely searching me.
No kinky reunion sex in the schedule, and it hits me. He doesn’t believe that I’mme. He’s questioning aprisoner.
When he’s satisfied that I’ve got no weapons or spells hidden on my person, he turns his attention to the gag. The rough calluses of his hands scratch my cheek, and his amber eyes look everywhere but in mine. “You’re not the first one they’ve sent. It’s useless to try and fool me.”
He scrapes away a layer of mud from my temple with the blade. “You’re not even a good copy. You’re a filthy, scrawny thing.”
Excuse me?
I pull my feet off the ground to kick his shin, but fail.
The edge of the blade sinks inside my belly button. “I want you to think long and hard about the answers you will give me, because the wrong ones will compel me to gut you.”
I swallow hard and nod. He’s not kidding. If he’s certain that I’m an impostor, how can I convince him otherwise—and quickly?
We’re like Romeo and Juliet, except Romeo will skewer Juliet before she can let him know she’s not really dead. How about that for a violent ending?
